Rescue on the First of September
by Healer Pomfrey
Summary: Written for ILoveHarryPotterWithAllMyHeart's request after participating in my writing contest: "I'd like Harry to get sick, and he is so sick he can't go to Hogwarts! But lovely Snape and McGonagall to the rescue" Completely AU, partly OOC, sick!Harry


**Rescue**** on the First of September**

Harry couldn't believe his luck. When he returned from his visit to Diagon Alley with Hagrid, the Dursleys assigned him Dudley's second bedroom. On the following day, they didn't give him any chores but apparently decided to completely ignore him. '_Thank God_,' Harry mused and spent the day lying on his new bed, reading his school books, which turned out as extremely interesting. The Dursleys' attitude didn't change during the next days, and Harry enjoyed himself with only his owl, which he called Hedwig, as company. From time to time, he went downstairs to grab something to eat, only to return to his room immediately afterwards.

Ten days after his trip to Diagon Alley, he woke up with a dump ache behind his temples, causing him to fiercely rub his forehead, which didn't help much. '_How annoying_,' he thought as he noticed that he couldn't concentrate on his reading at all. Unfortunately, a few hours later, the light ache turned into a splitting headache that refused to recede during the following days, which Harry spent talking to Hedwig and trying to study as much as he could.

Knowing that he wasn't allowed to use his wand out of school like Hagrid had instructed him, Harry followed the described wand movements with his right hand, nearly jumping from his bed startled when a pen from his desk began to raise a few centimetres, hovering over the desk as he waved his hand at the pen together with the incantation, "Wingardium Leviosa."

'_How could I make the pen float?_' Harry thought terrified. '_I didn't even touch my wand_.' He stopped his practice immediately, wondering if something was going to happen, because he did magic out of school. However, his fears seemed to be unnecessary, and on the next day Harry resumed his practice, which he enjoyed even more knowing that he perhaps could manage to do the described spells without his wand.

Unfortunately, his health condition became worse by the day and a week after the morning, on which he had first woken up with a headache, his whole body was sore, small green spots were slowly spreading over his arms, and he felt hot and cold at the same time.

HP PETUNIA'S POV HP

Petunia was in the kitchen reading a garden catalogue when she heard Harry descend the stairs. '_That was about time. The last time I saw him eat or drink something was yesterday morning_,' she mused, watching as her nephew slowly entered the kitchen, mumbled a greeting, and helped himself to a glass of water, which he gulped down greedily, before he re-filled the glass and repeated the process.

Petunia was just about to ask what he wanted to eat when she remembered Vernon's order to ignore the boy completely. '_Well, he is better at cooking than me, so it shouldn't be a problem for him anyway_,' she tried to soothe her consciousness, while she noticed that Harry looked worse for the wear. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes looked glassy, and dark rings were surrounding his eyes. '_It's still more than a week until he leaves for his freak school. I can't ignore him if he's ill_,' she thought.

HP HARRY'S POV HP

While Petunia was still pondering what to do, considering that Vernon wouldn't be back home for at least an hour, Harry returned to his room, where he let himself sink on his bed, shivering violently. He was just about to drift off to sleep when his aunt entered the room, equipped with a tray containing package of medicine, a spoon, a thermometer, a bottle with water and a glass.

"Harry, what's wrong?" she queried in obvious concern.

"Everything's sore," Harry croaked, shocked how hoarse his voice sounded, because he normally whispered to Hedwig in order not to aggravate his sore throat.

"Open your mouth," Petunia ordered him, sticking the business end of the thermometer in when he wearily complied, giving the display a shocked look when the reading was finished. "You have quite a fever," she stated as she gently supported his back so he could sit up to take a spoonful of medicine and drink a glass of water afterwards. "I hope this helps. I can't look after you later on; you know that Vernon wouldn't let me. I'll check on you tomorrow after he leaves."

"All right, thank you Aunt Petunia," Harry whispered, lazily closing his achy eyes.

Unfortunately, over the following week, his condition didn't improve at all, and seeing that the medicine didn't have any effect on the boy, Petunia had already given up checking on him when Harry's condition took a turn for the worse. The small spots that had been slowly spreading over his body grew larger by the hour, his body became extremely sore, and the fever he had been running over the last three weeks spiked, causing the boy to drift from one fevered nightmare into the next.

By the end of August, Harry was so dizzy and weak that he couldn't get up anymore. After a nightmare, in which Hagrid had come to tell him that he had been expelled from Hogwarts, because he didn't show up, a thought penetrated his fevered brain. '_I have to go to Hogwarts. School should be starting soon_.' At the beginning of August, he had been marking a paper, crossing out a day every morning to count the days until he'd leave, but since he hadn't been able to continue checking the days he had no idea what day it was.

Hedwig's shoo-hoo made him consider sending her to Hogwarts with an explaining letter. However, unable to get up, because the room turned around as soon as he did as much as raise his head, he couldn't easily fetch paper and a pen to write a letter. Fortunately, after racking his brains for a few hours, he remembered that he had read about a summoning spell. He even remembered the incantation, although he so far hadn't been able to summon anything. '_Well, I have to practise_,' he mused and feverishly tried whispering, "Accio pen and paper." Interrupted by delirious stupor and fevered nightmares, he practised for a whole day, before to his immense relief both objects obeyed to his spell and moved into his outstretched hand.

Harry turned around so that he came to lie on the side, placing the paper next to him on the pillow, and scribbled a note in a hardly readable handwriting.

'_Can't come, too ill. Sorry. Harry Potter_.'

"Hedwig, can you take this to Hogwarts please," he instructed his owl, fastening the letter to her foot, before he closed his eyes in relief as she took off through the open window.

When Petunia entered the room two hours later to bring Harry some water and enquire how he was supposed to get to Hogwarts since it was the first of September, she found her nephew unconscious and his owl gone.

_Hogwarts, first of September, 1991_

At Hogwarts, the Sorting ceremony was just taking place when Hedwig searched out Hagrid, who was busying himself with the Thestrals that had brought the carriages with the students up from Hogsmeade to the castle.

"Ah, you're Harry's owl, aren't you? Good to see that you arrived at Hogwarts," he greeted her, cheering at the beautiful owl, before he noticed the letter attached to her leg. With a joyful "Thank you," he took the letter off her leg, sliding it into his robe pocket to read after finishing his work with the Thestrals.

In the Great Hall, Professor McGonagall took the Hat back from the first year that had just been sorted and glanced on her list.

"Potter, Harry," she read, turning her eyes to the group of first years, who were waiting patiently in front of the Head table, ignoring the whispering and mumbling that occurred at the mentioning of the child's name.

"Harry Potter," she repeated firmly, questioningly turning her eyes to the Headmaster.

"Continue with the Sorting, Minerva; we'll see to that afterwards," Dumbledore instructed his Deputy Headmistress in a small voice, ignoring his Potions Master's mumbling about "Potters and their expectation to receive special treatment."

Only when the Sorting was finished, the Headmaster had greeted the students with a few selected words, and dinner had begun, Hagrid entered the Great Hall, taking his seat at the Head table next to Professor Sprout.

"Hagrid, you did not, by chance, receive any information as to why Harry did not arrive at Hogwarts today, did you?" Dumbledore queried gently, throwing the half giant a concerned look.

"But he must have arrived, Professor Dumbledore, sir," Hagrid replied eagerly. "I saw his owl, which I bought him for his birthday. Oh right, she gave me a letter." He quickly pulled the small piece of paper out of his robe pocket, letting out a gasp as he glanced at the writing, before he hurriedly passed the paper to the Headmaster.

"_Can't come, too ill. Sorry. Harry Potter_," Dumbledore read in a grave voice that even made the twinkle in his eyes stop. He remained pensive for a moment, before he turned to his youngest colleague. "Severus, I'm really sorry my boy, but I need you to go and fetch Harry."

"Headmaster, you can't mean that. Just because Potter believes he is in need of special treatment and can't take the train like every other student, I'm not inclined to go and fetch the spoilt brat," Snape replied in a very upset voice, causing the Headmaster to sigh in exasperation.

"Severus, if he is too ill to come by train, he needs someone to fetch him, who has at least some Healing knowledge; therefore, it has to be you, my boy," Dumbledore said as a matter of fact, ignoring the glare the Potions Master shot him.

"For God sake," McGonagall spoke up in an annoyed voice, standing up from her seat. "Let's go together then, Severus."

"All right," Snape replied between gritted teeth. "Let's make a detour to my lab to fetch a few potions. We can take the Floo to Arabella Figg's house from my office."

McGonagall agreed, and the two Heads of House strode down to the dungeons and through the fireplace to Little Whinging. After a muttered, "Sorry Arabella, have to check on Harry," the two teachers headed over to the Dursleys' residence, changing their clothing into Muggle attire as they left Mrs. Figg's house.

"Severus, please be careful with what you say," McGonagall told her colleague in a soft voice. "According to Hagrid, Harry is not pampered at all and wasn't even allowed his Hogwarts letter, which we sent out several hundred times, before we gave up and asked Hagrid to give it to the boy personally. He told me Harry was clothed in rags and did never receive a birthday present, before Hagrid gave him his owl."

"We'll see," Snape gave back in a moderate voice, knowing better than to sneer at his former teacher and best friend.

In the meantime, they had reached the Dursleys' house, and Snape pushed the bell, glaring at Petunia when she opened the door. "Why didn't you make your nephew go to the school, Petunia?" he hissed, causing her expression to become even more annoyed as it had been when she recognized him as her sister's childhood friend.

"Perhaps because my nephew is unconscious," she hissed back, before she let the two teachers in and led them into Harry's room.

The sight that greeted them was terrifying. A small boy with black hair, who didn't look older than eight years, was lying on the bed, obviously unconscious. His face was as white as the sheets, while his cheeks were deeply flushed, and green spots were covering every visible part of his body.

"Is he alive?" McGonagall breathed in shock as Snape turned into Healer mode and hurried to the child's side, trying to find a pulse.

"Yes, but barely," the Potions Master replied quietly, pointing his wand at the boy's head. "It's more or less a wonder that he is alive with that fever he's running," he added, pulling a phial out of his robe pocket, spelling the potion straight into the child's system. "He has the Squid pox, which he probably caught from Hagrid. I know for a fact that he came down with it a month ago, which was not a problem, because one dose of potion clears it up immediately. Unfortunately, nobody was here to help the boy, allowing it to become so bad. We need to take him to Poppy immediately. He is completely dehydrated and will certainly have to spend a few days in the hospital wing."

"Shall we try to wake him up, or do you intend to transport him in this condition?" McGonagall asked softly, glad that her colleague knew so much about Healing.

Snape once more waved his wand over the boy and sighed in relief. "Fortunately, the fever reducer worked, and at the moment he is only asleep." Leaning over the boy, he lightly shook his shoulder. "Mr. Potter, can you hear me?" he queried in his soft silky voice, causing Harry's eyes to snap open.

"Hello," Harry whispered, trying to back up in fright as he noticed a blurry black figure lean over him.

"It's all right, Mr. Potter. We came to take you to Hogwarts," Minerva said softly.

"Minerva, if you sat here on the edge of his bed, we could travel together with my emergency Portkey," Snape motioned his colleague over, while he pulled a chain out from under his turtleneck shirt that held a pendant with a small serpent. "It'll take us straight to the hospital wing," he explained, gently leaning down to Harry. He took the boy's small hand in his own, gripping the necklace, and advised the child, "Close your eyes, Mr. Potter." As soon as McGonagall hold on to the necklace, he muttered the password.

Harry felt a strange pull behind his navel, before the world began to turn around and he quickly followed the teacher's advice, squeezing his eyes shut. When he felt that the movement had stopped, he noticed that he was lying on something very soft and hesitantly blinked, seeing in surprise that he found himself on a crispy white bed in a large room with at least a dozen empty beds.

"Harry, this is our Mediwitch, Madam Pomfrey," McGonagall introduced Poppy, who immediately began to cast a diagnostic spell on the child, clucking disapprovingly.

"Severus, do you have a dose of the Squid pox potion left?"

"Yes," the Potions Master replied and swept towards the fireplace in Pomfrey's office.

"How long have you been sick sweetie?" McGonagall asked softly, gently bathing the child's hot face with a cool cloth, while the Mediwitch spelled several potions into the child's system, causing Harry to let out a relieved sigh.

"Oh, that feels good," he said, noticing the pain recede and his body cool down remarkably. "About three weeks I think, but it wasn't so bad at the beginning."

"You should have owled us immediately," Snape, who just returned with a huge goblet of a thick lime green potion, replied softly. "Your body became very dehydrated as the illness proceeded, and you were lucky that we found you today. Now, I know that you won't like this, but I need you to sit up and drink all of this."

McGonagall gently helped Harry to sit up and supported his back, while Snape pressed the goblet against his lips. Harry nearly gagged at the first sip. '_That tastes absolutely horrible_,' he mused, biting back the tears that began to well in his eyes at the horrible feeling of the thick liquid in his mouth.

"Take your hand and press your nose closed, so you don't taste the potion," Snape advised him, causing Harry to throw him a surprised glance but nevertheless follow the teacher's advice.

When he finally managed to finish the potion, Madam Pomfrey returned and unobtrusively spelled a sleeping potion into his system that caused him to succumb to sleep immediately, before she shooed the two teachers out. "Harry is still very ill and needs his rest, but I would like both of you to return tomorrow after breakfast, because I believe the child needs to have some comfort after what he has been put through. Thank God it's the weekend, so you don't have classes."

"How long will he have to stay here, Poppy?" McGonagall queried, glancing at Harry's sleeping form.

"Ask me again tomorrow morning, Minerva, but he definitely won't be out here by Monday morning."

HP HEALER POMFREY HP

When Harry's body finally won the fight over the sleeping potion, it was already light outside, and the rays of the early morning sun turned the room into a warm yellowish light. He automatically reached for his glasses, finding a small package instead. '_Where are my glasses?_' he mused, not really remembering that he had taken them off in the evening. He sat up, noticing that his body was still sore and he was slightly shivering, but he felt much better than before he came to Hogwarts. '_I'm at Hogwarts_,' he realized in absolute excitement as he reached out for his glasses that were still on the night table. He was just about to slide the glasses onto his face when he realized something strange. They had been broken ever since he could remember, but now they looked as if they were new. '_But they still look like mine, and nobody else is here, whom they could belong to_,' he mused and looked around the room in complete amazement, noticing that everything looked very bright and clear through his repaired glasses. '_Someone must have repaired them for me with magic_,' he mused, feeling very grateful towards the unknown person.

Suddenly becoming aware of the fact that he still held the small package on his lap, he got a closer look at the small box that had the picture of a frog on it, but the frog seemed to be made of chocolate. '_Strange_,' Harry mused. '_Who can have put this here and what is it_?'

All of a sudden, Madam Pomfrey bustled into the room together with a very old man with a long beard, who looked exactly like Harry had always imagined Father Christmas.

"Good morning, Harry," the man greeted him gently. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Thank you, sir," Harry replied, feeling very happy. _'Everyone seems so kind here_.'

"My name is Albus Dumbledore," the man introduced himself, and Harry remembered that Hagrid had told him that was the name of the Headmaster. The Headmaster's eyes were twinkling merrily as he pointed to the package with the chocolate frog and said, "I thought you might like a sweet. I always notice that it helps me when I'm not feeling well. Be watchful though, in spite of being a sweet, the frog is able to do one big jump if you're not careful."

"I'll be cautious. Thank you very much, Professor," Harry replied, eyeing the generous present in amazement.

"Normally, Harry, all the first year students, who come to Hogwarts, are sorted into their House. However, since you're ill and Madam Pomfrey won't allow me to sort you yet, Professor McGonagall, the Gryffindor Head of House, and Professor Snape, the Slytherin Head of House, will both look after you and answer any questions you might have. If you need me, just tell Madam Pomfrey, and she will call me."

"Thank you Professor," Harry replied and watched the professor leave the room, before he lay down again, sighing in relief as his head hit the pillow.

By the time he woke up, the two professors, who had brought him to Hogwarts, were sitting on chairs next to his bed, apparently doing something like a magical crossword puzzle together. Harry watched for a while as they seemed to be guessing spells, before they took turns pointing their wands at a parchment that apparently reacted according to the answer. Sometimes, it spat out small yellow things that looked like drops, probably if the answer was correct, and sometimes, a strong wind erupted from the paper, blowing into the teachers' faces.

"Typically Albus to make a crossword puzzle for us that awards lemon drops," Snape sneered with a disgusted expression as he took several drops off his lap, placing them on Harry's night table.

"Well, he probably thought he had to keep you in a good mood," McGonagall chuckled, before she suddenly noticed that Harry was awake. "Good morning, Harry. How are you feeling?" she queried in a soft voice.

"Much better," Harry replied, smiling at the teachers. "Thank you so much for coming and rescuing me yesterday."

"You're welcome, Mr. Potter," Snape replied gently. "I still can't understand why you didn't alert us earlier though."

Harry sighed. "I didn't know exactly what day it was; plus my paper and pen were on my desk, and it took me a while to practise the 'Accio' spell, before I was able to summon them to me," he explained in a small voice. His eyes widened anxiously as he watched the teachers' faces take on unbelieving expressions.

"Let aside that you did very well to manage the spell at all, did Hagrid not tell you that you aren't allowed to use your wand outside of Hogwarts?" McGonagall asked in a friendly but stern voice, causing Harry to cringe.

"I didn't use my wand, Professor. I was just practising the spells from my Charms book with my right hand, and since I managed the 'Wingardium Leviosa' spell before, I just tried the other in order to write my letter."

The two teachers exchanged a shocked look. "Well, Mr. Potter, you're definitely very powerful. Only very few people are able to do wandless magic like me for example, but in your age it's nearly unheard," Snape explained to the child, before he continued, "Mr. Potter, I shall go and collect your luggage from your relatives. Did you already manage to pack everything?"

Harry threw the professor a grateful look. "Yes sir, everything is in my trunk from the time I bought it together with Hagrid. Only my school books and my wand are on my desk, and the Charms book is in my bed. I don't know if Hedwig, my owl, returned to the Dursleys or if she stayed here, but her cage is in my room too."

"Don't you have any other things apart from your school necessities, which you want to bring?" McGonagall asked in a soft voice.

"No, I only have the clothes I wore yesterday; it's fine," Harry replied shyly, causing the teachers to look at each other once more.

HP HEALER POMFREY HP

During the weekend, Harry slept a lot, but the few times he woke up one of the teachers was always with him or arrived shortly after he opened his eyes. On Sunday evening, Harry was already feeling much better and was very disappointed when Madam Pomfrey told him that he had to spend at least three more days in the hospital wing. When McGonagall and Snape came to check on him once more after dinner, they were surprised to find the so far always cheerful child very subdued.

"Mr. Potter, if you feel well enough to let yourself being sorted and were sorted into one of our Houses, we could ask one or two of your classmates to visit you and share their notes with you if you wish," Snape suggested, throwing his colleague a questioning look.

"That's a good idea," McGonagall agreed, looking expectantly at Harry.

"I'd like that very much," Harry replied, feeling much consoled by their kind words.

"Very well, I'll call the Headmaster," Snape said, striding towards Madam Pomfrey's office with his robes dramatically billowing behind him, causing Harry to giggle.

"His robes; it looks funny," Harry whispered, seeing McGonagall's questioning look.

"Indeed," the woman replied, chuckling.

A few minutes later, Snape returned with the Headmaster in tow. "Are you ready to be sorted, my boy?" the old professor queried in a gentle voice.

"Yes sir," Harry replied, causing McGonagall to place the Sorting Hat on his head.

Suddenly, a small high voice penetrated Harry's mind. '_Where should I sort you, hmm? That's a difficult decision_.'

'_Do the students have to decide where they're sorted_?' Harry thought in surprise, causing the Hat to chuckle.

'_No, of course not my boy, but sometimes I'm able to listen to their begging if they want to get into a certain House for a valuable reason_.'

'_Well, Professors McGonagall and Snape promised to introduce me to their first years, if I was sorted into Gryffindor or Slytherin_,' Harry mused, uncertain what to tell the Hat.

'_Ah, how interesting_,' the Hat replied, '_then it will be_...' It suddenly became quiet, but before Harry could even begin to wonder what happened, the Hat shouted, "Slytherin."

McGonagall pulled the Hat off Harry's head, smiling but with a shocked expression on her face, while Dumbledore had his usual twinkle in his eyes and looked pointedly at Snape, who smirked and said in his soft silky voice, "Welcome to Slytherin, Mr. Potter."

"Thank you sir," Harry replied, throwing his new Head of House a huge smile.

**The End**

_

* * *

This one-shot was written for ILoveHarryPotterWithAllMyHeart in return for her participation in my writing contest (newsgroup). I hope you enjoyed?! On Maritime Star's request, there will be a sequel to this little story soon. Look out for "The Sick Slytherin."  
_

_I'm not a native speaker of English. Please excuse my mistakes or help me to correct them._

_All recognizable characters belong to J. K. Rowling, and I am not earning anything by writing this story._


End file.
